Visiting Hours

It was the first time she had smiled since the accident. The long months of medical prodding, the x-rays, the humiliating sponge baths, and the fearful, worried looks from her Husband were now seeing some hope of conclusion. The news was good. She had healed without complication, and nothing would remain of the accident except bad memories and soaring car insurance. It was good to smile.

Her life would be hers again. Soon.

The Smile turned from joy to relief as the nurse came and swiftly corralled her family out of the room. She enjoyed, and even needed, the closeness of her loved ones, but the months of being bed ridden had taken it's toll on her vigor. She exhausted quickly. Her lids hung heavy as her husband kissed her forehead goodbye, and she nodded off as the door shut on her last visitor.

Sleeping was hard. She had managed to crack or break enough bones in the collision that the net result was a full body cast. She could speak. She could wiggle her toes. She could clench a fist. Everything else was locked down with steel and plaster. For someone used to sleeping on her side, not turning her head was debilitating and maddening. She eventually adapted, but she spent a lot of time in a state of tired delusion. Good news would be her savior though, the new hope surging though her body relaxed her like no pain medication could.

Her dreams were filled with hope and excitement.

She woke late, the sun hours from returning. This was common, the itch of her cast and the infrequency of her sleep would often have her staring at the ceiling when she should be sleeping. It sucked, but there was something soothing about the isolation. After all theses months of loneliness she would expect herself to be sick of it, but no. She liked it. She enjoyed this time where her thoughts could reach out beyond her broken body and explore.

The change in her mood had widened her mental pilgrimage. For the first time in months, her brain found a part of her hidden beneath the Pain and the Drugs and the Bandages and the Plaster.

A Human Being.

Her body was healthy under the cast. It was ready to return as one of the living, it would explode this cage and surge into the world like a Hurricane. She finally allowed her thoughts to wander to sex. Her awakening lust spun through a Rolodex of scenarios, a film script of terrible and angry intimacy. She allowed herself an arrogant sneer, She would break her husband when she was out of the hospital.

Her hips frustrated against the cast, imagined penetrations building up in her mind. Her lungs pushed air through her lips more like a film monster than a person. She ignited in her prison.

Her breath caught in her chest as the door to her room swung open.

Panic.

Her eyes frantically explored her peripherals, but the room was empty. Whomever had caused the door to swing open had left, not entered. How long had this person been in her room? Did he hear her panting out her sexual frustration? She blushed. Her senses wandered the proximity cautiously, something was not right. Her heart stopped as she recognized the cool breeze around her hips....

…. Someone had removed the privacy sheet from her pelvis! Her sex was currently exposed to the cool evening air. She flushed with embarrassment as her head put the pieces together. Had someone from the evening cleaning staff snuck a peek at her while she slept? She felt vulnerable. The round opening in the cast, left un-plastered to accommodate her bodily functions, had left her most delicate parts at the mercy of anyone bold enough try. She felt unsafe for the first time since the accident. Her arms and legs spread and suspended to the metal frame above her would make hiding herself impossible. Hours ticked by while she nervously eyed the door. Sleep did not come easy, but she eventually succumbed.

She awoke to find her hips covered, presumably by one of the morning Nurses. She thought to complain to someone about the evenings intrusion, but something inside her let the day pass. Her self esteem was still in recovery and it left her confused. Was she flattered or horrified by last nights events? Certainly she was not OK that someone took this sort of liberty? She waited the day out with a feeling she could not describe, a mix of fear and curiosity.

When the door opened this time, she was awake and ready. She squinted her eyes in mock sleep, watching the shape sneak into the room with mop in hand. It sheepishly shuffled close to her feet.

She saw him. He was the product of the Hospitals generosity, a young dark haired man with wild, darting eyes and pale skin. His fast, nervous gate hinted at the mental disability that won him his employment. He was high functioning, but clearly disabled, a child in a mans body. She was surprised they allowed him this kind of access unattended. Sympathy washed over her.

He moved towards her hips with a confidence that made her suspect that last night was not the first time he had stolen a peek at her. She felt the cloth come away from her pussy and again felt the evening air caress her nakedness. She saw his innocent eyes brighten like a Disney character, and his head fell out of view.

Silent minutes passed. She new he was simply staring at her, At something he probably didn't understand. She couldn't quite feel his breath on her, but she imagined his blank, curious face inches from her pussy. She hadn't been so much as kissed in 8 months, this challenged her in ways she was ill prepared for. She flexed her PC muscles, and saw the top of his head jump back in surprise. It briefly occurred to her that if he where to attack her, she could do nothing to fend him off.... But other parts of her brain were running the show, and she felt oddly in control.

Her patience ended, and she spoke, “what do you think you're doing?”

The man jumped back, fear passing over him faster than a cold through a kindergarten.

“Sorry, Sorry, Sorry!!” He yelped, cringing against the wall.

He understood the danger of being caught, that much was certain. His utter helplessness urged her forward.

“I asked you what you were doing,” She said firmly, allowing her tone to become a little friendlier. She relished the control, but guilt made it's way into her thoughts. This was not an act of violation, but merely the virginal curiosity of a child.

He continued to yelp apologies, pawing at the front of his pants like a child needing to go pee. He had managed to keep his mop in hand through the entire scenario.

Once it became obvious he was not going to speak to her, she changed her tactic.

“Come Here. Come here, Please.” Her voice becoming warmer, trying to sooth his nerves. He eventually shuffled around the side of the bed, close to her face. She turned her eyes to look at him. His head turned sharply away from her, aimed at the door, but his eyes met her. He looked like a dog caught eating off the kitchen table.

“Did you like looking at me? At my pussy?” She asked in her best school teachers voice. He stared back at her confused, hiding one eye behind the mop. He did not speak.

She asked again, “Did you like looking at my Pussy?”. She felt strange saying it, and a little guilty that she never spoke this way with her husband. He had certainly made it clear he wanted her too.

His head nodded “yes,” behind the mop. She smiled at him and relief moved through his shoulders.

She sharpened her voice again to put him back in unease. “Do you think that's fair?” his back stiffened and he shook his head rapidly like a Muppet in answer.

“no...”

She smiled, it was fun to revisit this kind of immaturity.

”Then show me yours.” She commanded, not entirely clear why she felt the need to be cruel. His discomfort was pleasing to her.

No explanation or cajoling was necessary, he understood. His head sank in resignation and he began to unbutton the front of his overalls. She swore she saw tears in his eyes as he let his shoulder free of the garment and let it drop to the floor. He pulled his underwear down to his thighs and stood upright. He was hairless and rock star lanky, his arms no thicker than hers.

“I can't see!” She said, frustrated. She wasn't sure where the temper was coming from. She crooked her eyes as far as she could, but with her head locked forward, everything below his chest was a blur.

“Come closer!” She asked. He hopped closer to the bed, his overalls wrapped tightly around his ankles. She commanded more, he shuffled closer, but she still couldn't see him.

“OK, you're going to have to get on the bed with me...” She said, slightly dejected. This was not going smoothly. Like a child being asked to clean his room, he slowly oozed to the floor and wrestled his feet free of his overalls. Once naked except for his socks, he grabbed the support beams above the bed, stepped gingerly beside her head, and pulled himself up. He placed his other foot beside her head and stood over her.

She stared up in awe.

His cock was the most freakish thing about him. It hung heavy from his pelvis like a filled sports sock, the head a knotted fist. It was huge. A gleaming strand of moisture dangled from the tip and threatened to drip onto her face. He looked down at her and giggled, this felt more like recess shenanigans than anything grown up.

She fought hard to hide her amazement, but couldn't find her footing to speak any further. This was surreal. They stared at each other while he giggled moronically. Something was going to happen.

His eyes narrowed mischievously.

He then squatted down, placing his long, limp cock on her face. She tried to twist in the cast, but to no avail. He giggled some more and rubbed the head of his dick repeatedly over her face, leaving tiny, nickel sized dots of moisture on her cheeks and lips. Where could he have possibly gotten this idea?

She screwed up her face in displeasure, but made no protest. What could she do?

His cock was fully erect now, but the weight of it kept it hanging straight down. He carefully aimed it at her mouth and slowly eased it between her lips, squatting deeper onto her face. Her eyes widened as the warmth of it kissed her mouth. Her tongue circled her lips to moisten its passage, and the flavor of him flooded through her nose into her brain. He was clean, at least. She tried to suck him in deeper, but her jaw couldn't open enough to make room. It skidded across her teeth and rested warm on her cheek, slipping back and forth in a failed attempt to rape her mouth. Her own Saliva glittered on her cheeks as it fumbled about her face. He kept thrusting at her blindly. This was not going to happen.

He grunted disappointment and leapt from the bed with a monkeys frantic energy. It frightened her, his heightened arousal had brought with it a simian loss of control. He sprung at the suspension hoist that supported her arms and legs and began feverishly cranking it. The ratcheting was soon followed by the sensation of her whole body rising off the bed and swinging. He ran to the foot of the bed, flipped the ground braces, and wheeled the support frame, and her with it, away from the bed. He glanced at the nervousness in her face and apologized, “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry.”

She hung three feet over the floor now.

He looked at her seriously, still clutching the mop. He stepped between her parted legs, gripped her by her hips and gently began to swing her back and forth.

He moved closer to her.

Each time she swung into him, she felt his cock press gently at her outer lips. The cooling breeze from the motion alerted her to just how wet she was, and the gentle prodding of him turned into slipping. He hadn't entered her full yet, but she knew a single hard press would have him inside her. Each bump drove him deeper, but he had yet to enter her. She felt his erect cock bend lazily as they bumped together, he twisted his hips and made short, shallow stabs that slid his head up, across her lips to flick softly at her clit. She moaned in approval, it was her turn to feel utterly helpless. She was lulled by the rhythm, and the maddening promise of his full length inside her. She grunted at each thrust, the mop handle tapping out the beat. The warmth between her legs crept up her spine and pooled behind her eyes. She was moving closer to orgasm at a snails pace.

She glanced up at her invader and watched his eyes shut and his mouth open wide, he was clearly losing focus. She felt the gentle stabs turn into full thrusts as more of his impossible girth pressed far into her. In a few short strokes he was buried deeper than any man had ever been. She shrieked noiselessly.

Just as she was about to cum, she felt the mop handle bump between her ass cheeks and halt at her ass. Her eyes bolted open as she felt the broom handle join the assault. She was too wet to resist, the smooth wood handle slid up inside her as she thrust down on his cock. The delicious pressure of both rubbing against each other kicked off fire works in her head, and her orgasm found voice. She felt him surge and swell inside her walls as he emptied himself. They both shuddered together and collapsed, swinging from the support frame.

She awoke hours later to find him cleaning furiously. He had moved her back to the bed, reset the frame, washed the sticky mess he left between her legs, and covered her up. Once he was satisfied everything had been returned to normal, he grabbed the mop and headed for the door.

“Will you visit me tomorrow?” She called after him.

He was out the door without an answer. She never saw him again.

Weeks later.

Her last day at the hospital had finally come. The full body cast was off, and she and her big smile were on their way home. Hospital regulations required she remain in a wheel chair until she's safely in her car, so she enjoyed the last few lazy minutes touring the halls before she left.

She turned up at the nurse escorting her and spoke, “Can you do me a favor? Can give a hug and a thanks to the cleaner who takes care of my room at night?”

The nurse looked at her, confused.

” Ma'am, we don't have evening cleaning staff!”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.